Crushing

by Kelly Kay

  “Elle. I will never ever forget that sound. It’s mine now.”

  The insane thing is that I think that too, I can’t imagine making it for anyone else.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Elle

  I am remarkably refreshed. Thank god for nerves and adrenaline. I drive across the little town with mist rolling off the field and vineyards. As I pull into the winery, I mentally tick off all of my rules I broke last night, like a debauched checklist:

  Kissed two men in one night

  Slept with a stranger

  No last names

  Sex with someone I just met

  Sex without knowing what they do or telling them what I do

  Sex with someone who I talked about my mother with. I don’t talk about my mother with anyone.

  Sex with someone I’m not dating

  Sex with someone I met in a bar

  Sex without a condom

  Shower sex

  Sexy hair washing

  Washed my hair with hotel shampoo

  Broke a headboard

  Slept on a strange bare mattress

  Let him tell me what to do

  Said the word cock. A lot.

  Ate cold pesto breadsticks for breakfast

  Liked the stranger WAY too much

  Thank god the scenery is so breathtaking to take my mind off my slutty evening and his deep and endless blue eyes. I pull into the winery, its tumbled stone gated entrance leading me up the hill to a lush and verdant vineyard. The sloping hills of northern California are something I didn’t really know about. They’re feminine in nature. The winery sits just before the Carneros Valley and on the edge of Sonoma.

  I pull into Emma Farm, the official name of the land their winery sits on. It’s named after the woman who founded the winery. She’s a direct ancestor of Sarah’s, and I like that they still recognize that it’s a farm. There are several large stone and wooden buildings on the property. There’s a large and restored building they call the Farmhouse. Will and Sarah live there and have for most of their lives. Just across the parking lot from their house are the admin offices. They reside in a converted old Cooperage that they aptly call, the Cooperage.

  Down a hill and about a five-minute walk from the offices are the tasting room and a large welcoming slate patio that overlooks the vines and pond. It’s a converted half-barn and half of an old stone warehouse. The tank rooms, destemmer, and crush pad are all connected to the back of the tasting room. The wine is made on the back end of the tasting room building and through the back of the cave. Sitting close and up on a steeper hill, there's a large amphitheater and pavilion. They have concerts and outdoor films in the summer. The cave, which I have yet to see, is across a large patio area from the tasting room.

  I enter the Cooperage, and Mrs. Dotson greets me to guide me to the conference room. The entire staff is gathered. The building has some newer built parts, but you can smell the mineral of ancient stone and imagine the history in these walls. I love the smell.

  “Elle, where ya been? We had this meeting hours ago. You’ve been fired.” I laugh as Will embraces me. “Come. Can I get you some coffee?”

  I’m nervous. I really am. Even though I’ve spent most of the last five days in Will or Sarah’s company, I’m worried they won’t like what I thought of. I want to make them proud.

  “That would be great, thank you. A little sugar and a little cream, please." I don’t get nervous. I can slay any room, but for some reason, I just want this gig more.

  Sarah nods, and I follow Will. Coffee is fine, but what I really need is a shit ton of more Advil. I’m walking bowlegged. He did promise me that I’d feel him tomorrow. I hope they don’t notice the walk. Or—more importantly—think Asher did this to me.

  I need to push down the thought of my filthy gorgeous stranger and get my head back in the game. I have my back to the window out to the open part of the office. Kind of a bullpen of scattered desks and couches with high vaulted ceilings that are gorgeous with the exposed beams.

  I greet everyone individually and take my place back at the front of the room. All the departments are present and the vineyard crew. I’m going to give them an overall view of the plan. I’m wearing a bodycon, color-blocked dress. Turquoise, white, and brown. It’s a little tight for a business meeting, but I didn’t plan on doing business when I came to Sonoma eight days ago. My hair is in a French twist, and I was able to salvage my nails this morning with some buff nail polish that matches my nude sky-high Lagerfeld pumps and nude MAC Honey Love lipstick. I have no idea how I chipped a no-chip manicure during sex.

  I have delicate silver jewelry on my wrist but bold earrings that dangle just a bit. As I turn the corner, they brush my neck, and my thoughts turn to him again. Eventually, he’ll fade for me. I don’t have time to keep thinking of Joshua.

  I refocus in order to shred this meeting. Time to be the tiger I am. I'm pulled to this project. I don’t want it to go away. I’ll do the bulk of the creative work with Evan and hold on to this opportunity for myself. I won’t pass this account off to my staff to manage.

  I like these people. I want to help them sell the place. I’ll help them wine and dine buyers if that’s what my role becomes. I love that they have their vineyard manager, the tasting room employees as well as the accountant and direct sales manager sitting around this table. Most of whom I’ve met over the past couple of days. Their sense of community and the family feeling at the winery is exactly my pitch. Others may talk about assets and commodities that are worth something in a sale. I’m going to market the name, the feeling, and the family. The oldest continuously family-owned vineyard in California.

  There’s always been either a LaChappelle or a Whittier at the helm. Some of them were businessmen, and others were winemakers along the way. The vineyard hasn't been out of family hands for a hundred and forty-seven years. Research is my secret weapon. I could draw their family tree right now if they wanted me to. I’m not bored with wine or the story, I really do have the advantage of a fresh eye.

  I smile and stand. I pass out my prospectus to everyone at the table. I gut check the fire in my belly and begin, “Hello everyone, most of you know, I’m Noelle Parker from Parker & Company Marketing. My goal here is to make sure everyone understands that all I want to do is highlight the unique nature of this vineyard to glorify your amazing product. I want to ease the way for people to find you and appreciate what you have to offer, in service, in the product, and in beauty.”

  Everyone is nodding and smiling. I continue, “I’d like to go through my prop…” My breath catches, my body freezes, and I lose my words. Usually, nothing knocks me off my game, I’m a showman. But he’s much more than nothing.

  He breezes into the room, leaning up against the wall, crossing his arms then his eyes lock with mine and instantly go wide, and his eyebrows go straight up in the air. He seems as shocked to see me as I am to see him. I look around and begin to babble. “What are you doing here?”

  He says in a raspy tone, “How are you here?”

  I shoot back to him, “How are you here?” He looks sideways and then shakes his head pointedly at me.

  Everyone looks at the two of us, and I pull my shit together. Why is he here? My stomach is in knots. My knees knock. How did he find me? What does he want? Oh, god. Is he a stalker? Why is Joshua here? His hair’s a little out of control, and I know why. He catches my gaze, and his eyes track to Will and Sarah, then he purses his lips. I guess he doesn’t want to do this in front of his bosses. But he does look hot. I grin at him and try to regain my composure.

  “Well, sir. Have a seat and I’ll continue.”

  The azure blue of his casual linen shirt mirrors his eyes, and I see that the bottom button has come undone. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate? The open shirt flap frames him in his faded jeans. Unfortunately, I know exactly what’s under the jeans, nothing but his giant dick. I struggle to look away. He catches me looking and smirks. Then he nods as I retur
n my gaze, skimming up his impressive figure to his chiseled face.

  His eyes take in every piece of me in this dress. Then his facial expression changes. It’s not as open as I knew him to be. He stands up a little straighter, and his demeanor flips. I almost feel the chill come over me. Oh, god. Did I imagine our connection? I’m an idiot. I opened up way too much.

  Mrs. Dotson pipes up with a quasi-explanation of who I am, “She’s from New York. We’re here to listen. Can she just get on with telling us how she’s going to rebrand and save the winery?”

  “Hi.”

  I’m flustered, and there’s a slight redness overtaking my chest and creeping up. I’m grateful for my crew neck dress but hoping I can contain the flush to my chest. FUCK. Get out of here. His eyes harden after Mrs. Dotson speaks.

  Everyone’s staring at me and then him. Joshua’s words come out cutting, “Interesting. By all means, continue. I wasn’t aware we needed any of that. Elle, is it?” This is not a tone I’ve heard from him before. “Please continue. Or are we waiting for Asher? You okay? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” I collect myself while he looks like he’s pissed.

  “Asher Bernard will not be attending today. This has nothing to do with him.”

  “That’s not what I heard, Elle,” Joshua says with a look like…

  “It’s Noelle. The name is Noelle Parker. Elle is a nickname used by very few.” Will tosses his arm up to acknowledge that he can use that nickname. He settles me.

  Will looks over, “Cop a squat, Josh. It’s not what you think also you don’t know this woman well enough to call her Elle.” He winks at me, and Joshua’s eyes flick between the two of us. Again he looks utterly confused.

  But he’s almost cruel to me. I’m so devastated that the man I chose to be so vulnerable with might use my softness against me. Also, how does he know about Asher? Fuck. Does he know that Asher and I were a thing? How does he know any of this?

  “Please enlighten us, Noelle, with how you’re going to save us all. Big city New York, Cosmopolitan girl. I wouldn’t want to miss your plan on how to make the winery viable and edgy. I’m sure you will use every advantage you can to help us, possibly exploiting people unbeknownst to them.”

  Fuck. He thinks I knew who he was, that it was planned. I still don’t know who the fuck he is or what he does at the winery. He’s not been around the last five days when I’ve basically lived here.

  I look around the room to salvage the meeting, and everyone is staring at us like we’re on display. I address the room. “I want to remind everyone here that I’m only here because I was asked to be by Will and Sarah.”

  “Then, by all means, let’s get to this fabulous plan that only someone like you could come up with.”

  I must look like I’ve been caught stealing. I’m baffled and pissed at this guy now.

  “I’m sure you’re competent, but right now, you look like a damsel in distress.”

  “Nice point. I didn’t make the first contact.” That’s not translating to everyone else in the room, but it is a reminder to him that I did not seek out this random surly employee of LC/W. He saved me from the letch. I was just trying to get the taste of Asher out of my mouth.

  He nods at me acknowledging that as fact. Now, I need to get back on track. I mean, hold up, asshole. Maybe your eyes aren’t that fucking blue.

  I fire back because this is my meeting. “I’m sorry, Suit, why don’t you take a seat and let me get started.” Shit. He rattled me. I need to get back to professional.

  He doesn’t move, and it’s incredibly distracting. What the hell does he do here? I thought I knew everyone and their roles. I’m rolling through the employee roster in my mind for a Joshua. Nothing. The frustration flush of a minute ago is fading into a rage. That red could take over my cheeks at any moment. Curse of Irish skin, everyone always knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “I’ll sit when I’m ready. Proceed there, Ms. Cosmopolitan.”

  Sarah turns to Joshua. “I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but this is incredibly unproductive.”

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? He can sense that I’m confused.

  Joshua looks at Sarah. “One second. I have something to say, and then I’ll sit down.” It’s about time. I’m rapidly losing credibility.

  “Fine. But be kind.” Sarah glares at her employee.

  He speaks in a low raspy tone that pisses me off it’s so sexy.

  “I’m just not sure someone who spends most of their time in steel, concrete, and glass is going to understand how things are done out here in the terroir, rolling hills, and clean air? Even if they do own jeans and a local cafe t-shirt, this version seems to be the real you. But give it your best shot. Seriously, where the hell did you come from?” Everyone is looking confused at his intense anger. I am baffled. Will seems to be delighted by the whole thing. I will not lose this job.

  Sarah speaks again, “Okay. That’s quite enough. Sit down. Let Elle finish.”

  I follow her lead, making sure to mimic her tone of voice. I’m in charge of this meeting. I also think he’s an ass. I didn’t use him for intel. I didn’t know who he was, and now he knows way too much about me. And he's mean. I thought we shared something more profound than a hookup. I was apparently wrong. I’m struggling not to let anyone know how hurt I am right now.

  I get indigent and sarcastic. “Maybe let me know your name, Joshua. That way I can call on you if you have any more questions. Or if I think there’s anything you can possibly help with, I’ll let you know. Just raise your hand.” Will snickers just a little.

  “It’s Josh.”

  “Not Joshua? Interesting. Seems there’s lots of pretending going around.” I push him. “Great, okay then, then please sit-down Josh,” I say sternly. The rest of the table’s eyes are wide, and I don’t know what they’re worried about, I can hold my own. I’ll apologize if the Whittiers are offended, but I’m fighting for this job right now, and I don’t lose.

  Everyone shifts in their seats and two of the employees take the moment to run out for more coffee. I refocus and arrange my presentation in front of me.

  I’ve been so disconnected from any authentic over the last year or so. I’ve been traveling in a haze of glitz and glamour. I’m so tired of pushing luxury brands to people who just buy things because it’s what’s new or next, no regard to need or quality. This place is genuine and pure. I want to be connected to something real, not create an air of authenticity around a product. I want to be associated with a true thing, not something I have to convince people to believe in. These people are real, and I’d like to honestly help them.

  I want this piece of business, and no glorified farmhand will get the best of me.

  I was raised on a farm in Kansas. A real working farm, with animals, wheat, and corn. I know about living and dying by the harvest and weather, hoping your family will have a good crop. I stood up to every farm boy in the county. I know all about soil and clean air, asshole. Sit the fuck down.

  I don’t tell anyone about the farm. I try to maintain a very polished and chic exterior for my clients. I deal in high-end luxury, and I’d lose most of my clientele if they knew I was just Brittany Noelle Doyle from Ellsworth County, Kansas. Noelle Parker gets shit done. Elle Parker is a force of nature sophisticate that gets results. I may have fooled you with my no make-up sloppy hair and submission last night, but buckle up, vineyard boy, this is my show right now.

  Then he leans over the table, placing his large and commanding hands on it. Despite my new distaste for this man who’s made me feel used and cheap in a matter of moments, my stomach flutters. Those are the hands that were inside me just hours ago. He’s staring directly into my eyes, and I can feel myself want him.

  “My name is Joshua Lucien LaChappelle Whittier,” he says. “You know nothing about me, Cosmo. And you can call me Josh.”

  My heart drops to my stomach, and I instantly want to puke. Joshua picks up a bottle of wine with his name on
it, turns the label towards me, and pushes it across the table. Visions of LaChappelle/Whittier family tree choke me. It’s the son who doesn’t want the winery.

  Then he walks over and kisses his mother on the cheek. He places his hand on his father’s shoulder before sitting. Oh, god. No. No. No. Oh no. I fucked their son. A lot. I screwed him a lot. I dirty fucked their son. I slutty fucked their son. I know what their son tastes like. Oh, god. Composure. Shit. And he’s treating me like shit. I have to get past my hurt and the absurdity of this situation. I’m so pissed. Did he know who I was?

  Joshua says, “Go right ahead and tell me how you know this place better than me.”

  Everyone laughs and the rage red flips to embarrassment pink. It’s all over my cheeks along with the egg on my face. And I hate Joshua Whittier.

  I soften my tone but maintain it. I must continue, or this is all a farce of who I am. I do know Joshua Whittier, no stone unturned. Research is my weapon and religion. I smile like it’s a nutty madcap mix-up instead of the most embarrassing moment of my life. He looks nothing like his overdone persona that’s splashed all-over multiple bimbos’ Instagram accounts. I seriously didn't recognize him last night. His hair color is so much lighter in person. And he’s supposed to be in Santa Barbara, where he lives.

  Take back your moment. You’re terrific in the room, Noelle. Do it. Throw it back at him even though you’re sore in every cell of your body because of things you let him do to it. And your heart aches a bit that it all meant nothing to him. He’s turned so quickly on me. I’m not quite sure why I’m the enemy when it’s his parents that are selling. Take it back. I throw my shoulders back and stare right at him. I’ll show him Hellcat.

  “Oh, but I do, Josh. I do know you. You graduated from near the top of your class at Stanford, but not with a business degree. You were pre-law for some reason. You took the LSAT and probably could have gone to law school, but I’m going to guess the siren song of money called to you. You left Sonoma eleven years ago to join your venture capital firm, Magnus, in Santa Barbara. At thirty-four, you’re one of the most successful at your firm founded by Cross and Baum, but you’re not a partner. You do a lot of tech offerings and own a large steel and glass home on the ocean and multiple flashy cars. You have an assistant named John and no student loans, you paid them off your fourth year at the firm. You also paid John’s student loans off as a bonus last year. You speed too much and have racked up seven speeding tickets in the last year. You paid handsomely to keep your license. You eat way too much cereal and yogurt. You enjoy dating vapid amazon brunette women but only if they have more than fifteen thousand Instagram followers. And I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware you wanted anything to do with the wine business.” Will claps and I nod at him but stare at Josh.